


Hide and Seek

by Elfgrandfather



Category: Eastern Promises (2007)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:52:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfgrandfather/pseuds/Elfgrandfather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikolai and Kirill continue to play hide and seek after Maria has gone to bed, and Nikolai ends up finding more than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide and Seek

**Author's Note:**

> I recently re-watched The Servant and it made me want to write something with erotically charged hide and seek, I hope you'll enjoy it! Translations of Russian words are at the end of the fic. If I write another story I'll try to abstain from peppering them in since I know it's an absolute pain to have to scroll to the end of the story, but, er. It's authentic? (not it's not and I'm not Russian so there's a 99% chance some of them are used wrong)
> 
> This was Beta'd but I'm a dummy so there might still be some mistakes. Whoops.

'Ready or not, here I come!'

Nikolai looked up from the whiskey he'd been nursing for the last twenty minutes and smiled. Kirill leaned against the column he'd been counting against, and surveyed the area with a look that would have seemed critical if it weren't for the occasional giggles he couldn't seem to stifle. He took a swig of his own glass, and cleared his throat.

'Okay, okay,' he started, taking a few steps into the room and surveying the area, checking under a few tables, 'Kolya. Where do little princesses hide, d'you think?'

Nikolai shrugged, amiable smile still in place, 'why you asking toad?'

'True,' Kirill smirked, approaching one of the little alcoves they seated important costumers in, and where a short, high-pitched little laugh had come from earlier, 'I should use prince instinct, da? Runs in the family. And prince instinct says that the princess is right... here!'

He dove under the table with his last word, and Nikolai watched as the new boss of the Vory V Zakonye rolled around on the ground with his niece, who was squealing delightedly and pretending to struggle as her uncle mercilessly tickled her and growled about being a monster in disguise, a monster who eats pretty little girls.

Ever since Semyon had been taken away, a few short months ago, Kirill had burrowed himself in running the restaurant and his family, leaving most of the real Vor work to Nikolai, and though the Siberian had had to talk his way out of a few sticky questions and situations when dealing with clients ('Kto to1? Where Semyon's malchik2? He too good for us, huh?') things had been running as smoothly as Nikolai could have hoped. He mostly ended up coming to the restaurant at various hours and debriefing Kirill while he stirred his soup and nodded, eyes half lidded and a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, often comfortably buzzed and blindly trusting of his friend.

During evenings when the restaurant hadn't been booked or they hadn't been called in for some kind of meeting, Kirill liked to spend time with Maria, frequently surprising her with little gifts or cakes and sitting with her to watch cartoons, sipping on a beer as the episode advanced. His drinking had gotten worse for a brief period before settling into an odd erratic pattern, alternating between light days and days where he'd end up sprawled on the floor, the restaurant seats and, once, the stairs, black-out drunk and sleeping with a small frown.

Today seemed like a good day; Kirill had been drinking steadily, but fairly small and weak amounts, so he was only just starting to show the effects of the alcohol, face flushed and eyes shining, moreso than a normal little wrestling match with Maria should have caused. Nikolai wandered over to the pair and crouched down on his haunches, prodding Kirill in the shoulder with his usual calm and content expression.

'Is getting late, hm?' he asked, shifting his gaze from Kirill's beaming face to the little girl, 'You have school tomorrow, should go to bed. Uncle's getting sleepy too.'

'I'm not a bit tired, Nikolai!' she protested, yawning as if right on cue and pouting a little at the way she'd betrayed herself. They'd formally met soon after Nikolai had returned to the restaurant, still healing from the attack, and she'd immediately grown fond of him, quickly abandoning 'Mr Luzhin' in favour of his first name, and often coming up to him to ask for homework help when he was hanging around the house. She'd long since stopped bothering with Kirill, who'd either grow frustrated or just give her the answers, which Nikolai couldn't help finding amusing. She was a smart girl. He hoped she'd go far away from all the Vory influences sooner rather than later.

'Yawn says otherwise.'

'Kolya's right, Mashka,' Kirill remarked, stretching out on the ground a little and stifling a yawn himself, 'you got a long day tomorrow, baby. Don't you have that project you're gonna do?'

'Oh, yes, about the Victorians!' she smiled, giving her uncle a quick final cuddle before standing up, 'it's going to be ever so good, Charlie and Vicky and me worked really hard on it. They had such pretty dresses back then, uncle Kirill!'

'We can get you one of those, you know.'

'Really?' her eyes practically shone when she asked, and Nikolai couldn't help but chuckle at her enthusiasm.

'Yep, really. Promise. If you're a good girl and you go to bed on time and you get good grades, we can ask Santa, yeah?' Kirill winked at her and Maria got up, dusting off her dress even though there wasn't much to dust off, and gave him a kiss on the cheek before starting off towards the stairs, waving at Nikolai as she went. He waggled his fingers in her direction and watched her go up to the living area, called back to the present when he felt Kirill tug at his jacket's sleeve.

'She's a great kid, man. She's doing good even though Papa's gone too, isn't she?' he asked it in an off-hand manner, but the look he gave Nikolai was one of a man who wanted reassurance, who wanted to convince himself. And Nikolai nodded, honestly, patting Kirill on the side and letting his warm hand rest against the other's torso, feeling the ribs even through his silk shirt. Kirill had definitely lost some weight ever since what happened around New Year's, but he'd been skinnier a few months ago. He seemed to be on his way to being the same old Kirill, and that notion made Nikolai oddly happy.

'She is good kid. Bright, too.' He didn't flinch when Kirill loosely grabbed his wrist, keeping it against his torso, eyes closed.

'She's gonna go to university, you know. A good one, too, like Oxford or some shit. I got the money. They'll take her, it works everywhere, even in England, yeah?'

'Da, da, Kirill, even in England,' Nikolai moved his hand slightly, not breaking contact, but trailing his fingertips over those jutting ribs, watching Kirill's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and leaned into the touch, lips slightly parted. He was drunk enough to be able to pretend this was normal, drunk enough to fool himself, and that's when he was the most dangerous. Taking their relationship to its next logical step was inevitable, Nikolai knew it, and he wasn't even against the idea if he were completely honest with himself, but timing was crucial. And this wasn't a good place, not for the first time. Especially not when Maria could randomly show up.

So he tapped Kirill's body with his index finger a few times to get his attention.

'You have long day tomorrow too. Should go to bed. Prikhodit3, I take you upstairs.'

'Chto4?' Kirill's eyes fluttered open and he frowned at Nikolai a little, making to sit up, 'no way, man, look at how early it is. I'm not gonna go to sleep now.' His eyes lit up like he'd just had a brilliant idea, and he tugged on Nikolai's lapel, grinning. 'Let's play hide and seek some more, okay? It'll be fun.'

Though Nikolai could think of a couple of things he'd rather be doing, he wasn't really opposed to the idea, so he shrugged a little, thinking it'd be best to entertain Kirill's little drunken fancies when they were this simple, and not really wanting to deal with any potential rages that frequently overcame the stormy Russian. 'Okay. If you want.'

Kirill laboured to get to his feet, clinging to Nikolai's arm for support, and indicated the column he'd been counting against before.

'Maria was hiding before, so you seek first, da, Kolya? Count to a hundred. Sto5.'

As he turned to do so, he heard some shuffling noises before hearing the sounds of someone padding off, and he understood Kirill had taken off his boots to make less noise. He was taking this surprisingly seriously, Nikolai thought, leaning against the wall and starting out to count out loud in Russian, not too fast and not too slow. He'd been good at this game when he was a kid and they played out in his village, managing to track down the others in the Winter snow and hiding in the thick trees during the Summer. He was good at that sort of thing.

Once he reached the hundred, he turned around and saw that Kirill had indeed abandoned his shoes on the carpet, and after a quick look around the ground floor restaurant area, Nikolai assumed he'd gone up to hide on the first floor, and, sighing, dutifully marched up the stairs, slightly surprised when he found himself face to face with Maria, in her pyjamas.

'Oh, Nikolai!' she exclaimed, holding on to the cuffs of her pink shirt, 'you scared me. I brushed my teeth and I was just going to bed, honest!'

'I believe you,' he replied, patting her head, 'was just looking for Kirill. We playing hide and seek too.'

'He _is_ good at this game,' Maria said, bringing a hand up to her mouth with a small 'hmm,' thinking about the matter with comical intensity, 'he always finds the best places to hide. That's why I like it when he counts best, it takes ages to find him, especially in this big house.'

Nikolai couldn't help but think that there was a reason why Kirill was so good at making himself scarce, but he dismissed it as Maria tugged on his sleeve, like her uncle had done.  
'So I'm going to give you a clue, if you'd like that,' she whispered, beckoning Nikolai closer when he nodded, 'I saw him come up here, but he didn't go upstairs, so I think he might be in his room. Don't tell him I told you!'

He nodded solemnly, pretending to take it as seriously as Maria did, and crossed his heart in the same way he'd seen her do sometimes, which seemed to satisfy her. Nodding once, she turned and toddled off to her bedroom, pretending never to have encountered him, and shut the door after giving him a final conspiratorial look.

Nikolai had been in Kirill's room plenty of times to deposit the Russian in his bed after a night out, so he quickly headed to the end of the corridor, opening the door to let himself in. It was like he remembered it, surprisingly small for someone as exuberant as his boss, the sleek, modern furniture clashing with the large painted icon above the bed and the Battleship Potemkin poster on the wall. A few neglected books were littered on and around the infrequently used desk, and some clothes were piled up on one side, but he kept it cleaner than one would expect, considering he didn't let the maid into the room at all.

He was still busy looking around the room for signs of life when something suddenly grabbed him around the ankle, making him quite literally jump and swear (loudly) before he heard the guffaw from under the bed and connected the dots, just in time to stop him from bringing his heel down on the offending limb. Rolling his eyes and muttering a quick prayer to the Holy Mother for patience, Nikolai bent down to drag Kirill out of his hiding spot, previously slicked back hair standing up in places and starting to revert to their natural curliness, sock-covered feet kicking weakly in protest as he moved, and ungraceful giggles slipping out of him almost continuously. They only intensified when he got a look at Nikolai's expression.

'I wish I could've seen your face,' he said, crawling up onto the bed, 'it's pretty fuckin' great now, but I bet it was priceless when I did it. You weren't expecting that, right? You weren't.'

'No, I wasn't. Don't know why I wasn't expecting it, but I wasn't,' Nikolai conceded, raising an eyebrow at the mafia boss as he flopped down on the mattress, face firmly in the duvet, 'surprised you didn't fall asleep under there.'

Kirill looked at him over his shoulder with a grin, and laboriously turned over to lie on his back, immediately stretching like a cat, arching his back to get comfortable. The motion exposed some of his taut stomach and the hair peeking out from under his belt, and overall, he looked completely inviting and ready to be fucked. The glint in his eyes didn't do anything to challenge this image.

'You were hunting me, I couldn't fall asleep, Kolya, wouldn't've lived this long if I didn't know that easy rule,' Kirill replied, and Nikolai was struck, as he had often been before, by the younger man's ability to say things in one tone and imply a whole host of demons if one took the time to listen to the actual words. It inspired a rise of fondness and pity that best characterised Nikolai's feelings for the other Russian, and made him want to offer the same base forms of comfort he'd found with some of the boys in that thick Siberian forest, in what seemed like another lifetime.

'True,' Nikolai said, holding one hand in the other as he so often did, 'Vor skills. You can sleep now I've found you. Not a hunt no more.'

'I can't sleep yet! It wouldn't be fair, would it, Kolya? You found me, now it's my turn to seek,' Kirill yawned widely, wriggling a little and exposing more of that pale stomach, 'we're partners now. You find me, I find you. Always.'

That cheeky grin melted into a content, trusting smile, the smile of someone looking at a person they'd quite literally trust with their life, the smile of someone so utterly and irrevocably in love that Nikolai had to look away, the back of his neck tingling with the knowledge of his real identity. It had been so easy to dislike Kirill on paper, but he was finding it harder with each passing day, and simply settling into this current lifestyle, chipping away at the branches of the empire he found most reprehensible instead of really bringing it all down, seemed so attractive. He had to make some sort of move.

So Nikolai forced his usual small smile and nodded, taking a step closer. 'Da, Kiryusha. Always.'

Nikolai could see Kirill tense slightly when he put one knee on the side of Kirill's own, but he didn't move away. His lips parted briefly as though he wanted to say something, but no sound came out, and he quickly went back to his previous happy smile, tinged only slightly with nervousness as Nikolai came closer.

'Your turn to seek, hm?' he murmured, now on all fours over his friend's prone body, 'so close your eyes.'

That smile got just a little bit more nervous before Kirill swallowed, hard, and obediently shut his eyes, long eyelashes fanning over cheeks flushed with drink and excitement. Nikolai wasn't a stranger to bedding people, but he felt like he was defusing a bomb, and wasn't sure what touch would set it off or go over smoothly, so he settled for familiar territory by bringing up a tattooed hand to Kirill's face, ghosting his fingertips over that stubbled jaw. He let his fingers trail down to brush against the other Russian's neck, thumb still on his chin, and grinned at the little noise Kirill made at the back of his throat.

Kirill tensed further when Nikolai started to leisurely undo his shirt buttons, and let out a shuddering breath that turned into a breathy laugh, as he arched his back to get more of that craved contact. Nikolai's hand traced the lines of one of Kirill's stars, then the other, taking his time as though he were committing them to memory, and he felt his own ink burn against his collarbones, a perpetual reminder that they were partners - at least, at one time. Now. And now was what mattered.

He could feel himself getting harder, and they both let out short moans as Nikolai allowed their hips to meet and thrust once, twice, started a slow but steady rhythm as they rubbed against each other through their trousers. Kirill was gripping the sheets, biting his plump lower lip as Nikolai's fingers continued to explore and tease and he grew hotter and hotter at the friction against his length.

'Good?' Nikolai asked, snaking his hand down to start undoing his belt.

His usually chatty friend seemed at a loss for words, not replying for a while until he managed a little sigh. 'Yeah,' he breathed, nodding slightly, 'feels nice.'

'More?'

Nikolai didn't get a reply this time, but he assumed the increasing amounts of moans and groans were meant to be taken as encouragement, and he quickly worked to unzip and unbutton the both of them, relishing the gasp Kirill let out when the undersides of their naked cocks first brushed against each other.

'You can touch,' Nikolai said, pausing his motions to quickly discard his tie, and pausing again to undo the buttons Kirill's shaky hands weren't managing to deal with, slipping off his suit jacket and shirt in one fluid motion before continuing to rut against Kirill, the precome that was starting to pearl on their heads leaving little wet patches against their stomachs. The other man's hesitant hands on his back felt comforting and warm, and Nikolai let himself drop against Kirill completely, face in the crook of his neck, breathing out hotly against the side of his throat.

Nikolai could feel those uncertain fingers move over the proverb inscribed over his shoulder blades, then down over the cupolas of the Orthodox church that covered most of his back. He felt Kirill's breath hitch when his fingertips discovered the raised edge of the long diagonal scar that now split the steeples, one of the many marks he'd gotten during the fight at the baths, and groaned a little when the younger man stroked that healed skin with trembling hands.

'Prosti6, Kolya,' was what he heard, in a voice so small he was sure he would have missed it if he weren't so close.

He shrugged, slowing his thrusts to more slow, languorous rolls of his hips, wanting to extend this as much as possible, 'Is okay. Wasn't your fault.' 

Kirill reflected for a few moments, idly stroking Nikolai's back, hands tensing and relaxing after particularly well angled roll of the Siberian's hips, and turned his head away, letting a long shaky breath out through his mouth at the combination of Nikolai's lips against his now exposed throat and the increased friction resulting from his own uncertain, timid responding thrusts. It was all going so well that Nikolai almost missed the two low words coming from his boss.

'Hit me.'

Nikolai continued his increasingly erratic movements for a while, simply listening to all the soft sounds emanating from Kirill, and between two heavy breaths, he replied: 'what?'

' _Hit me_.'

There was more assurance in that voice, and Nikolai stopped to heave himself up onto his elbows, looking down at the other man, who instantly frowned and strengthened his grip. 'Don't stop. Just do it. Hit me.'

Nikolai tentatively resumed his motions, deep in thought. Was Kirill this uncomfortable with affection? Did he hope to achieve some sort of penance through this request? There was the possibility he just genuinely enjoyed being smacked around the head, but contextually, it seemed unlikely. There were a lot of questions and subtleties that a man in Nikolai's current position couldn't really think about, things he'd have to reflect on later over a glass of whiskey and not while approaching an otherwise enjoyable climax.

'No.'

'Do it!' his voice, more of a growl, had a definite edge to it, and the way he was clinging to Nikolai was almost painful, 'It's an order. Eto moi prikaz7.'

Nikolai's head was swimming with the combined confusion and, though he felt guilty admitting it to himself, sustained arousal, as he considered his options. Kirill's tempers weren't ever pleasant to deal with, and he could tell by the tone of his voice and the way he was setting his jaw that he was starting to build up to an explosive one, but Nikolai honestly couldn't tell whether it was a legitimate request or one of those things Kirill understood while expecting everyone else to read his mind. Was he just faking his partner out, testing him? Time was running out and he just did not know.

So he raised himself up higher and settled for a relatively weak backhand, knowing it would hurt more on impact but sting less than an actual slap, and the resulting sultry moan from Kirill and the way he licked and nipped at his lower lip sent a jolt straight to his cock, urging him to move faster, feeling the mounting pressure inside. 

'Harder.'

Nikolai hesitated less this time, throwing hand against Kirill's cheek with more force, feeling a slight sting where his knuckles met a cheekbone, then bringing his hands down to secure Kirill's writhing hips in place as he redoubled his efforts, groaning at the constant and intense friction, while Kirill threw his head back and groped blindly to run his hands over Nikolai's chest, brushing Christ on the cross without knowing it.

'I'm sorry, Kolya,' he gasped, between keening noises, 'I'm just a spoiled brat, aren't I?'

'Yeah,' Nikolai said through his teeth, short nails digging into Kirill's hips in a way that he hoped would leave bruises, 'just a rich bitch, Kiryusha.'

Kirill's eyebrows knit as he nodded, and he cracked his eyes open just a fraction to take in his gorgeous partner, the lightning to his thunder, and then he was spending himself, coming hard against Death and the Virgin Mary and even some of Christ, and against his own flushed and wriggling body, the seed spreading between their bodies and making Nikolai's long thrusts all the slicker. The increased ease the little panting breaths from Kirill as he rode out his orgasm and the spasmodic grips of his fingers against Nikolai's skin had him come shortly after, streaking white against the other Russian's belly as he bent over Kirill's now-sluggish body to recompose himself somewhat, lips against the star on his boss' collarbone.

They stayed in that position for a long time, simply breathing in each other's scent, feeling the sweat on their slicked skin cool. Nikolai even thought Kirill might be asleep when he finally moved, but he found himself locking gazes with those pale blue eyes when he eventually moved. It all felt surreal, especially with Kirill's unreadable face, and it was only now that Nikolai noticed the redness about his eyes and the drying trails of tears down the side of his face. Worry washed over him but he didn't show it, giving Kirill's forehead an affectionate nudge with his own before moving to retrieve his cigarettes and lighter from his jacket. While doing so, he heard some shuffling sounds from Kirill, and heard the rustle of his trousers hitting the floor.

'Kolya, c'mere. Davai8.'

Kirill was sitting up against his pillows, mopping up the come on his stomach with tissues, and beckoned Nikolai over again when the latter didn't immediately jump to attention. Once the Siberian was dutifully seated next to the new Vory king, he reverently cleaned off Nikolai's stomach and dabbed at the little stains on his black slacks, giving up with an annoyed click of his tongue when he couldn't get rid of them properly. The used tissues were flicked somewhere off the side of the bed and Kirill slumped into Nikolai's lap, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling.

'Whatever. We'll wash those later or we'll just go to the shops tomorrow and get you a new pair. Yeah. We should get you a new suit, Kolya, somethin' cool and fitted. Classy.'  
Nikolai just shrugged, lighting his cigarette and taking a deep drag. The moonlight filtered through the parted curtains, just reaching Kirill's forehead, and he tentatively reached over to smooth back that messy, greased-up hair, smiling in relief when Kirill mumbled and leaned into the touch, closing his eyes again.

'Hey, gimme a smoke.'

He passed his light cigarette to Kirill, keeping it at mouth level while he took a few drags, then passed it back to his own lips. The events were just starting to sink in, and the odd familiarity of their easy companionship in this new context made it all feel slightly off, like the colours were turned up a little too bright on a television set. Seeing Kirill act so blasé despite his nakedness just reinforced the feeling, and Nikolai wasn't sure whether this attitude was an effort to make everything seem normal or whether they'd breached some sort of level and reached that level of comfort already. It was odd, but not in a bad way.

'Again.'

Nikolai blinked, returning to the present, and was met with Kirill staring up at him, mouth open invitingly. He was about to comply, as usual, when he was struck with an idea, an idea that seemed outlandish but worth a try, so he simply quirked his lip, briefly raised his eyebrows and closed the fist in Kirill's hair, giving it a light pull, definitely enough to be felt but not harsh enough to hurt.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Probably a look and an annoyed 'what the hell, man,' maybe a swat, but what he got was a snort and a small, cheeky smile that threatened to turn into Kirill's usual wide, toothy grin at a moment's notice.

'Again, _pozhaluista_ 9, Kolya.'

The cigarette was placed between those ruddy lips again, and Nikolai combed his fingers through those locks again, brushing them in an approximation of Kirill's usual style once more.

Their relationship had evolved in more ways than one, he knew that much, but he'd have to investigate to find out exactly what happened. He'd have to investigate thoroughly and often, for the sake of his Scotland Yard duties.

And maybe he could manage a kiss, next time.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Who's this?  
> 2\. Boy  
> 3\. Come  
> 4\. What?  
> 5\. One hundred  
> 6\. I'm sorry  
> 7\. It's my command  
> 8\. Quick/hurry up  
> 9\. Please


End file.
